


Aware

by SocioCannibal



Series: WYK [3]
Category: BioShock
Genre: Alternate Universe, Infidelity, M/M, Mind Control, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-26
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-16 09:14:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15433791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SocioCannibal/pseuds/SocioCannibal
Summary: Jack knows there's something going on... Atlas is somehow messing with his head. He's determined to get to the bottom of it; no matter the cost.





	Aware

**Author's Note:**

> This is a continuation of my WYK series - which is an AU where Jack and Atlas share an apartment in Rapture as normal citizens. 
> 
> A HEAD'S UP: This first chapter features Jack/Sander Cohen more than Jack/Atlas

Jack suspected there was something wrong with him. He was losing time, waking up with blurry memories or no memories at all. He sat at the kitchen table, rubbing his temples and trying to process what he knew about his missing thoughts. It happened mostly when Atlas was around; he must know something. Maybe he was behind it all. Jack could remember refusing Atlas, only to end up in bed with him shortly after. He could remember fighting, attempting to leave, but always staying anyway. Atlas was just too damn persuasive. 

Jack glanced at the clock on the wall. Atlas would be home soon. Jack got up and grabbed his wallet and keys. He was going straight to a doctor before Atlas could return to the apartment and jump him. He rushed down to the Atlantic Express station and sat on the bench, deep in thought. Jack was sure he had loved Atlas when they moved in together. He had happy memories of them together, even a handful of pictures of dates they’d gone on. Jack boarded the train and headed toward the Medical wing of Rapture. 

When Jack arrived, he lingered outside the entrance deciding on exactly what to tell the receptionist. He finally walked up to her. “Hi,” he greeted quietly.

She raised an eyebrow at him, glancing him over once, before smiling and asking, “How can I help you today, sir?”

“I’m looking to get an appointment with a shrink,” Jack replied. 

“Of course,” she said, “I’m sure we can find you something.” She began flipping through her scheduling book. “Dr. Wong is available tomorrow at 1pm for an hour session.” 

“I can do tomorrow,” Jack quickly replied.

She nodded. “Name please?”

“Jack…” he said, “Ryan.”

The receptionist raised her head slowly and looked at him again.

“N-no relation,” Jack added, thanking whatever god existed that he looked like his mother. She gave him a thin smile in return.

“And how will you be paying?” she asked.

“Um… Cash?” Jack answered. 

“Full payment is due before the appointment can begin,” she stated. Jack nodded. “It will be $125.”

Jack swallowed hard, “No problem,” he lied. “And thank you.”

“We will see you tomorrow, Mr. Ryan…” she smiled warmly, “No relation.”

Jack let out a nervous laugh and left the Medical Pavilion, worrying about how he was going to pay for his doctor’s visit. There were ways to make a quick buck in Rapture... Jack sighed and made his way to Fort Frolic. Jack didn’t frequent the Fort – mostly because he didn’t want to draw in unwanted attention and Atlas had a nasty jealous streak. But Jack could make extra money there under limited time. 

He was greeted by the familiar sights of scantily clad women and men, drinking and public sexuality. He avoided the solicitors and went up to the main theatre. A man at the entrance wearing a feathered mask stopped him. “The theatre is closed for auditions, sir,” he informed Jack. 

“I know,” Jack said, “I’m… I’m looking to audition.” 

The man lifted his mask and stared at Jack for moment. “You… aren’t really the type he’s looking for at the moment.”

“Please,” Jack pleaded, “I… I just really need a chance.”

The man took Jack’s chin between his fingers. “That desperate?” he asked. “He may have some use for you.”

He released Jack’s face and stepped back. “Good luck.” 

Jack gave him a small, uncomfortable smile and slipped into the theatre. It was mostly dark, but the stage was lit. A young woman was singing on the stage, a lullaby of sorts. As Jack sat down a loud voice cut the woman off, “NEXT!”

She was stunned for a moment before resolving herself and stomping off the stage. No one else took the stage as she left, and Cohen shouted again. “Next, you mediocre hacks! Next!! I don’t have all day!” 

Another performer hesitantly took the stage and started their act. Jack watched nervously. The dancer was also cut off, but this time by a different man. “Thank you! We will call if you’re needed!” The dancer left the stage hurriedly. 

“Tell the rest of them to leave, Fitzpatrick,” Cohen said, “Talentless troglodytes.”

“Yes, Mr. Cohen,” the other replied. Jack saw someone in the second row stand and head back stage. Jack approached the row cautiously. 

“Mr. Cohen?” he asked. 

Cohen glared at Jack at first, but as the lighting illuminated him, Cohen’s face softened. “Aren’t you a dish?” he purred.  
Jack hid the shiver that it caused him. “Mr. Cohen…” he said again, “I… I am interested in auditioning.”

“Auditioning,” Cohen echoed. He stood and stepped up to Jack. “For what exactly? You sing?”

Jack shook his head no. 

“Dance?”

Jack shook his again.

Sander took a hold of Jack’s face – artists and their touching – and stared into his eyes until Jack shifted his gave away. “Ah… I know what you’re here for then, little moth.” 

He tilted Jack’s head from one side to the other, smiling wickedly, and mumbling, “Yes, yes… I can work with this. My muse is stirring, my moth. Come, flutter away with me.”

Cohen stepped past Jack and left him to follow. Jack stayed behind Cohen as they left the theatre and proceeded to a private elevator. Cohen took Jack to his studio. Jack looked around, the walls and floors covered in paint, sketches and half-finished paintings. “This way, my little one, come to the light,” Sander called. He was further into the studio, waiting for Jack on in a brightly lit room. 

Jack entered the room as Sander was setting up an easel and canvas. “Remove your clothing and have a seat on the bed,” he instructed.

Jack only hesitated for a moment before obeying. “Undergarments included,” Sander said.

Jack closed his eyes and inhaled sharply, but he did it. He was about to sit down, when Sander grasped his arm. “Look at you,” he murmured. “Such smooth, pale skin…” 

He ran his hands over Jack arms and shoulders. “Shame someone has bruised you.” Sander placed his hand over the bitemarks and fingerprints on Jack’s neck and collar. “Though, you’re even prettier in purple.”

He gently pushed Jack down onto the bed and positioned his limbs. “Don’t move, little moth,” he ordered. Jack breathed in slow and closed his eyes. Sander began exploring Jack’s body with featherlight, tender touches. Jack opened his eyes when Sander began rubbing his nipples with a paintbrush. “Mr. Cohen…” Jack whispered. 

“Hush, hush,” Sander replied, “Capturing a moment of ecstasy requires the participant to be quite aroused.”

“Mr. Cohen, I’ve never-”

“Done this before?” Sander finished, “I will make it worth your while, my moth. And I promise to be gentle… unlike the one who left all this purple and blue on you.”

“… my name is Jack,” Jack replied. 

Sander chuckled. “Well, Jack… lie back, relax, and think of Sander Cohen.”

Jack closed his eyes again as Sander began massaging his inner thigh. He felt the paintbrush dancing around his torso, tickling him. Sander then took a hold of Jack’s cock, stroking him slowly. Jack couldn’t help but moan softly at the ministrations. “M-mister…”

“Call me Sander, Jack,” the artist replied. “It’s only fair…”

He kept pumping Jack’s steadily growing cock and began using the paintbrush to tease the head. Jack whined and rolled his hips. Sander’s hands then disappeared. “Ah, ah, naughty boy,” he chastised, “No moving.”

“Sorry,” Jack whimpered. 

Sander patted Jack’s leg and continued to pleasure him. Jack moaned softly, his dick twitching in Sander’s hands. Jack panted and then bit his lip to keep his voice down. “Beautiful,” Sander praised. “Stay like that, sweet boy.”

Sander left Jack on the bed. He moved the easel closer and began painting. “Purple and blue,” he mumbled, “I think those are perfect colors for you, little moth.” 

Jack kept his eyes closed but nodded. “If you’re a good boy,” Sander said, “I’ll even let you cum.”

Jack shivered and whispered, “Thank you…”

He heard Sander laugh softly again. Jack laid still for about an hour before Sander moved toward him again. “Spread your legs, little moth,” he ordered.

Jack did so and Sander rewarded him with a few short pulls of his cock. “Good, now hold that position for me.”

Sander returned to painting and Jack fell back into his thoughts again. He thought about Atlas, back in the apartment probably wondering where the hell Jack was. Served him right. Jack spent countless hours alone in the place, wondering where Atlas was, who he was with, and just what kind of trouble he was getting into. Atlas was always up to something – he always had money of unknown origins. Money that he didn’t share with Jack, and always managed to spend.

Jack was dragged back to reality when he felt Sander kneel on the bed again. “Jack, have you fallen asleep,”

“No, Mr – Sander,” he said, “Sorry, I was just… thinking.”

Sander hummed. “Well, think no more. Feast your eyes on this delightfully scandalous portrait of yourself.” 

Jack looked, blush creeping over his face. His head was tilted back, concealing his face, but the rest of him was on display, body arched as if he were at the point of orgasm. Jack’s legs were spread, but his genitals were covered with sophisticated, wing like patches of blue and purple hues. They encased the rest of his body too, creating a surreal angel-like image of himself. “Do you like it, my little moth?” Sander cooed into his ear.

“Its…wow” Jack breathed.

“How eloquent,” Sander replied. “I’d like to make a whole series, my moth. If you can find the courage to return to me.”

Jack nodded, “I think… Maybe…”

“Let me give you an incentive,” Sander encouraged. 

He took hold of Jack’s dick once more and started stroking him again. He placed a finger against Jack’s hole and placed just a little pressure there. Jack moaned. He hadn’t been treated so gently in a long time. He arched off of the bed and a bucked his hips into Sander’s hand. Jack wanted to feel more. 

“That’s it,” Sander praised. Sander kissed his neck, nipping and licking lightly. Jack turned his head and kissed Sander back fully on the lips. Sander made a soft surprised sound but quickly returned Jack’s efforts. He thrust his tongue into Jack’s mouth. Jack opened his mouth a little wider and groaned. 

Sander gripped Jack’s cock tightly and pumped him faster. Jack pulled away from the kisses, throwing his head back and gasping, “Sander!” 

“Yes, my little moth,” he said, “Cum with my name on your lips…” 

Jack moaned louder and came, seeing white and spilling all over Sander’s hand. “Sander!” he panted.  
“Good boy, Jack,” Sander praised, “Good boy.” He wiped his dirty hand across Jack’s chest and abdomen. He left Jack to rest on the bed. Jack sat up and watched Sander place his masterpiece safely to the side. Sander removed his shirt and trousers. “Now, I think you know what needs to be done,” he said.

Jack nodded and slid off of the bed. Sander sat down and presented his own dick to Jack. He took a hold of Jack’s hair and tilted his head back. “Let me paint your face now, Jack,” he groaned.

Jack opened his mouth and laid his tongue out flat. Sander placed his cock on Jack’s tongue. “Hold still, like the good little moth you are,” he said. He pushed his cock into Jack’s mouth and held it there. Sander kept Jack’s head still. Jack tried to move his tongue, to tease Sander just a bit. His body was still buzzing from his orgasm; he wanted to return the pleasure.

Sander gripped Jack’s head and held it in place as he thrust shallowly into the wet open mouth. Jack instinctively loosened his throat, used to the way Atlas fucked his face. Sander was slower, careful not to complete choke Jack with his movement. Jack did his best, moaning as Sander’s dick entered his throat, trying to be more than just a cock sleeve. “Ah,” Sander moaned, “You’ve done this before…”

Jack could only swallow around Sander’s cock in response. “Mm… keep your mouth open,” Sander said, slowly taking his dick from Jack’s lips. “Tongue out. And look up.”

Jack did as he was told. He stared up through his lashes at Sander, saliva dripping from his lips. Sander gazed back, pumping his cock in Jack’s face. “Good, good…” Sander praised. He panted and grunted, and them came all over Jack’s face. Jack closed his eyes as Sander’s orgasm splashed on him.

He kept his mouth open, Sander eventually placing his softening cock there. Jack gently licked the slit and then swallowed whatever spunk he had caught on his tongue. The two of them sat still, breathing heavily. Sander finally stood, picking up his pants and stepping past Jack. “Clean yourself up over there,” Sander gestured to a small wash room at the back of the studio. “I’ll get what you’re owed.”

Jack moved to the bathroom and wash his face and body. He returned to the studio area and began putting his clothing back on. Sander returned shortly after he was dressed and handed Jack an envelope. 

“Its $200,” Sander said. “Is that satisfactory?”

“Y-yes,” Jack replied, “Thank you… Sander.” 

Sander took Jack’s hand and led him from the studio, and back to private elevator. “And I release you, little moth,” he said. “Step back into your world… but remember, you’re ever welcome in mine.”

He gently pushed Jack into the elevator and then turned back into the studio as it descended. Jack sighed and laid his head against the back wall of the elevator. He tucked the envelope into his shirt and left Fort Frolic. Jack made his way back to the train station, though he wasn’t sure what he was going to about facing Atlas. The man would likely demand to know where Jack had been. Would he really believe any lie Jack told? Maybe Jack would just tell him the truth out of spite. What could Atlas really do now that it was all over?

Sander had been much more loving than Atlas ever was. Jack could get used to being treated gently. He could leave Atlas… find someone who would treat him better, treat him right. He could go back to Sander… Atlas would only have himself to blame for all those times he had hurt Jack. Jack stood outside the apartment’s main entrance, hesitant. It wasn’t really any of Atlas’ business where Jack had been. He didn’t have to tell him. Jack took a deep breath and entered the building.

**Author's Note:**

> Part 3 of my city life, Jatlas AU. There will be at least 1 more chapter because we just have to see the drama of Jack confronting Atlas. And vice versa.


End file.
